


If You Can't See Him (Is The Pain Real?)

by flipflop_diva



Category: Original Work
Genre: Boarding School, Curses, F/M, Forced Orgasm, Invisibility, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Penis In Vagina Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Somnophilia, Vaginal Fingering, Witch Curses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:20:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24949879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flipflop_diva/pseuds/flipflop_diva
Summary: Emma Falsworth did not believe in rumors or curses. Especially not the one where the invisible man comes to seventeen-year-old girls during thunderstorms to have sex with them while they're sleeping.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 12
Kudos: 216
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	If You Can't See Him (Is The Pain Real?)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lafoga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafoga/gifts).



The rumors had haunted Belshire Academy for years, passed down from generation to generation of students, whispered late at night as the girls donned their night clothes and tucked themselves into bed.

The descendants of the old mansion, now the building that housed the dorms at Belshire, had been cursed long ago, the rumors said. The great-, great- grandfather of the man who donated the house, and his family’s name, had been said to have had an unhealthy predilection for teenage girls. But one night, having chosen the wrong girl to take back to his bed, he was cursed by the girl herself, really a witch in disguise.

She cursed him, the rumors said, to become invisible, to have to watch the world from afar, to not be able to have anyone see him again — and to make the curse worse, she cursed one man from every generation of descendants that followed.

Well, somewhere along that line of descendants, the rumors told, one of the men decided to turn the curse into his blessing, and to take revenge for the witch, he began frequenting the school that bore his name. And on stormy nights, when the wind and the rain and the thunder were so loud that no one could hear you scream, he would sneak into the dorm of one of the seniors — all of whom were allowed to live roommate free — and have his way with her while she slept.

Of course, as rumors often went, no one at Belshire Academy had ever met a girl who had been the victim of the invisible man — perhaps because he was taking a break or perhaps, more aptly, as Emma Falsworth thought, because the rumors were just that. Rumors. Meant to scare the girls into staying in their rooms with the doors locked and the windows shut and their legs together.

Emma Falsworth, now seventeen and a senior at Belshire Academy, was what you would call a non-believer. She didn’t believe in witchcraft or curses or anything of that nature, even if some of the girls she was friends with did. She never wished on a star or threw a penny in a fountain for good luck. She wasn’t afraid of the number thirteen or black cats or walking under ladders.

And she sure as heck wasn’t afraid of some made up story about some invisible man who haunted her school and her dormitory building.

So when the thunder crashed overhead the first night of May of Emma’s last year at Belshire, and the lightning lit up the sky, Emma cracked open her window so she could get a better look, and a better sniff.

Emma loved rain — the sound of it, the smell of it, even the feel of the droplets splashing all over her. And she loved thunderstorms. She always had. Even if some of her friends were anxious about the loud sounds, she adored them and wanted them to last all night.

Emma finished her homework that first night of May and curled up in her bed with a book, the window still open, listening as the thunder crashed and the wind howled.

Eventually she fell asleep, the book still in her hand and the window still cracked.

That was when the dream started.

Emma dreamed she was asleep in her bed, the book still in her hand, the window cracked, the thunder booming louder than ever. But in her dream, Emma had a sense she wasn’t alone. 

She was warm, though, so warm and snuggly and she buried herself further into her pillow and tugged her comforter closer to her chest.

But without warning, Emma’s comforter was lifted off her. Not pushed down or pulled off, but lifted into the air and tossed somewhere on the floor, leaving her lying on her sheets in her long night shirt and underwear.

As Emma tried to understand what was happening, she heard the bed creak and then felt it dip, like someone else was on it with her.

And then she felt them — hands on the sides of her legs.

In her dream, Emma opened her mouth to scream, but she couldn’t. She had no voice, she had no power to move. All she could do was lie there. Helpless. Terrified.

Emma closed her eyes tightly. She knew the hands had gripped the side of her night shirt and was slowly pulling it up her body, past her thighs, up past her underwear, revealing her stomach inch by slow inch until it was moving further up, revealing the bottoms of her breasts, then her nipples and then it was tucked up under her chin.

Again, Emma tried to scream, but she could do no such thing. All she could do was lay there, panic coursing through her body.

She had never done this before, been naked for anyone. This wasn’t how she wanted it to go.

But it didn’t matter what Emma wanted because hot, heavy hands were suddenly wrapped around her breasts, squeezing her flesh, and she tried to scream, but still, she was mute. Frozen. 

The hands were kneading her breasts, the thumbs of each one rubbing roughly over her nipples, making them hard and painful.

 _Wake up, wake up, wake up!!!_ , Emma screamed inside her brain.

But now the hands were stroking down her bare belly, circling her belly button, drawing circles against her hips, caressing the flesh above her legs.

It would almost have been loving if it wasn’t happening like this.

The hands were on her thighs now, pushing her legs apart, and Emma tried harder to scream. Over and over in her mind, she shrieked.

 _Help me, help me, help me!!_ , her mind shouted.

But there was no help to be had. Emma’s legs were being shoved apart, bending them at the knees, pushing them back, opening her up wide. And then a finger was on her pussy, stroking her from the very top to the very bottom, and Emma tried to scream again.

The fingers kept working her, sliding gently through her folds, and then speeding up, making quick circles up and down her slit. And then the tempo changed, and now the fingers were faster, rougher, harder, stroking her ruthlessly. And then something else started to happen. Emma’s hips started moving, bouncing up and down slightly, in time with the fingers rubbing her, spreading apart her labia and stroking over what she knew must be her clit.

Her head tilted back, even as she screamed silently in her head, her back arching. Something was happening inside her body. Her muscles were tightening. She felt warm, sweaty.

She felt one of the fingers stroke down her pussy again, but this time it didn’t come back up. Instead it slid inside her, into her most intimate region.

Emma was flailing now, her body writhing across her sheets.

 _Wake up, wake up, wake up!!!_ , she screamed, louder and louder.

And then a jolt. Her eyes flew open. Her top half of her body flew upward, sitting up in her bed in her dorm. 

She stared around her room in wild terror. Lightning flashed, lighting up her entire dorm room like it was the middle of the day, and for a second she could see everything — the window on the other side that was open wider than she remembered leaving it. Her comforter on the ground. Her own body, mostly naked and spread open on top of her bed.

Thunder cracked outside. Something hit Emma in the chest, knocking her down on her bed.

A hand.

A hand was on Emma’s chest!

She screamed, for real. Screamed as loud and as long as she could, but the rain was coming down faster than she could ever remember, the thunder was non-stop and no one was going to be coming.

A hand was pressed over her mouth, cutting her scream off before she was done. She could smell something on the fingers beneath her nose. A little bitter. Tangy.

In horror, she realized it was her. Her scent, covering the fingers that had been in her pussy.

Before she could think what to do, a voice — the most awful voice she had ever heard — spoke in her ear.

“Stay quiet for me and this will be a one-time thing. Scream again and I will come to you, in your bed, every night for the rest of your life.”

A sob made its way up Emma’s throat, choking her even as she nodded under the man’s hand. She felt frozen again, the terror making it hard to think.

But she couldn’t chance this happening again. She couldn’t chance saying no.

The hand stayed on Emma’s mouth as tears began to pour from her eyes. But she didn’t fight. Instead she let herself fall backward more into the pillow.

The hand over her mouth was gone, and Emma let out one quick sob, knowing exactly what was about to happen.

Her legs were pushed even further apart, and then without warning, the finger was shoved back inside her, but this time it was two fingers, and Emma cried out as pain seared through her body.

Emma remembered listening to two girls in her class talking about sex once. One had mentioned how being relaxed would help it feel better. But how could she relax?

The fingers were pounding into her though, every stroke shooting a dagger of pain through her whole body, and Emma forced herself to breath, forced herself to try and relax.

Emma jerked suddenly. The hand had twisted around, and now the palm was rubbing up against her clit with every thrust of the fingers.

Emma bit on her lip as tears overflowed her eyes, dripping down on to her cheeks. The fingers weren’t stopping, moving faster and faster inside her, and the thing that had been happening in her dream was happening again — she felt her hips rocking up to meet the thrusts and she felt her muscles tightening and she felt something akin to a cord winding itself up in her stomach.

In horror, Emma realized what was happening, but it was too late. The friction on her clit was too much, the fingers in her body too deep, and every muscle in Emma’s body was tensing, and then she was orgasming, crying out as her pussy clenched around the fingers inside it.

The fingers withdrew, and Emma almost breathed a sigh of relief. She had made it through. She was going to be left alone.

The hands grabbed her suddenly, under her knees, and “No!” Emma couldn’t help it. She cried out in fear, but she felt her legs placed on what she assumed were shoulders, and they were pushing her legs back, closer and closer to her own chest.

She looked down at her own body, naked, her pussy so exposed. She could see it glistening, could see her pubic hair matted by something wet.

And then something was pressed against Emma. Something warm and flesh and poking.

Emma started to sob as the cock pressed into her tight entrance. It was too tight. She was too small.

The cock pulled out, and for a moment Emma had hope. Maybe the man realized he wouldn’t fit?

And then the cock slammed back inside her.

Pain wracked her body. Emma bit down on her lip, trying to stifle her screams, but her muscles were jerking in agony. It didn’t seem to bother the man as he just kept forcing his cock deeper and deeper into her body.

She pressed her hands over her face to muzzle her screams as he slammed into her, picking up speed as his cock rammed into her body, sliding her up on the bed with ever thrust.

She tried to pretend she was somewhere else, that this wasn’t happening, but there was nothing to focus on but the pain.

And then the thumb was back on her clit, stroking over her gently, as though it was doing her a favor.

The shoulders shifted, and Emma’s legs were pushed back even more. The cock moved even deeper inside her. The thumb pressed down on her clit.

Emma’s body jerked. All she could feel was pain and fear, but there was something on the edge, and it was worse than either.

“No, no, no, no, no,” Emma chanted to herself, but even as she did, she knew it was no use. The cock was practically jack-hammering her now, filling her all the way up and then pulling almost all the way out, and her body was reacting, growing tense and rigid. 

The thumb pressed over her clit again, just as the cock delved back inside her, and Emma exploded, her vision whiting out as she felt herself orgasm despite herself.

But even as Emma shuddered, the cock inside her didn’t seem to have any intention of stopping. It pounded in to her, almost at a dizzying pace, and Emma, her body contorted, could only close her eyes, tears streaming down her face, as her body shook with every plunge.

Almost inexplicably the cock sped up even more, Emma’s body jerking on the mattress, and then it slowed, and a moment later Emma felt something being released inside her, and she bit down on her fist as she sobbed harder.

The hands let go of Emma’s legs, dropping them to the bed, the cock — now limp — still inside her. 

And then it was gone, and Emma almost choked in relief. She tried to move her legs, to curl herself into a ball, but she was too slow and before she could move she found herself on her belly, the hands shoving her legs apart again.

Emma screamed into her pillow as she felt a finger part the cheeks of her ass and stroke her there, from the top to the bottom, stopping to run around the rim of her hole.

She lifted her head, panic clouding her senses.

“Please no!” she sobbed to her room. “I’ll do anything.”

The finger in her ass didn’t stop rubbing her.

But then a voice spoke. The same awful voice that had spoken in her ear. “Anything?” it said.

Emma nodded into her pillow, which was growing wet from her tears.

“Okay,” the voice said, and the finger disappeared from her ass.

Emma lifted her head. “Okay?”

When the voice spoke next, it was pressed up against her ear. “You are mine until the storm stops. And then when it is finished, you give me the name of a girl I will take next.”

Emma’s breath caught in her throat. “You … want me too … you want a …. a n-name?”

“Do you have a problem with that?” the voice growled. The finger returned to Emma’s ass, this time pressing into her asshole.

Emma shook her head, quickly, her mind racing. Could she give him a fake name? Would he know? The finger pressed in deeper. Pain once more coursed through her body. 

“No,” she managed. “N-no! I’ll give you a name! Just not … just not there.”

“Good girl,” said the voice in her ear. She felt the finger disappear again from her ass. Instead, it slipped back inside her ravaged pussy. “You are so wet for me. I knew you would be special.”

The finger crooked inside Emma. She jerked.

“One more thing, little girl,” the voice said, and she could feel the heat of its breath against her skin. “I know everyone in this school. So if you dare give me a fake name, you will regret it.”

Emma felt the blood drain from her body. But the fingers were fucking her pussy again, and her body was already starting to tremble, and no, she could handle this for a couple more hours, but she couldn’t let this man, this thing, fuck her ass, she couldn’t chance him coming back for more, she couldn’t, she couldn’t …

“No fake name,” she pleaded. “I’ll give you a real name. Please. Just please don’t hurt me anymore.”

“Oh,” said the voice. “This isn’t going to hurt. I’m going to give you the best sex you’ll ever have in your life.”

A second later, Emma was being turned on her back again, and a second after that, she felt a face bury itself in her pussy.

She didn’t know how long it went on. The thunder roared, and the man took her, over and over again. On her back, on all fours like a dog, on her stomach. He fucked her with his fingers and his cock and with a dildo that was so large it felt like it was ripping her insides in half.

But as she faded in and out of consciousness, the pain and the terror finally taking its toll, the thunder stopped and the rain started to slow.

Emma’s eyes shot open as something pinched her nipple, shocking her awake.

“A name, little girl,” growled the voice.

Emma didn’t think — she couldn’t — she just gave the first name she could think of. “Daphne Porterhouse,” she whispered, as guilt racked her body.

She felt lips graze her ear and then a finger slid over her pussy one last time. “Good girl. Thank you for a wonderful night.”

And then there was nothing. No sound of breathing. No touch of another person against her body. Not even the sound of rain or thunder outside.

Emma sat up. She looked down at her hands. They were shaking.

She stood up. Her knees almost buckled, but she managed to catch herself. She made her way over to her window, slamming it shut and drawing the curtains.

As she turned around, she caught sight of herself in the mirror on her closet door. She looked a mess. Covered with bruises. Blood streaming down her legs. A mix of fluids she didn’t want to think about on her thighs. 

She chanced a glance at her phone sitting on her desk. Just after five. She had class in three hours. She would need to be up and dressed and able to look Daphne Porterhouse in the eye when she took her seat beside her in math.

Maybe there wouldn’t be another thunderstorm again until after graduation.

\--

Two days later, Emma Falsworth opened her eyes and sat straight up in bed. Outside, the thunder cracked.

For a moment, she thought she heard the sound of a girl screaming.

Her hand reached down, pulling up her nightshirt. She stared at the marks on her body.

Then she lay back down, rolled over and went back to sleep.


End file.
